


they call me the hero

by psychamonia



Series: 'they call me' verse [1]
Category: Lunch Club, The Lunch Club Podcast, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Character Death, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychamonia/pseuds/psychamonia
Summary: To be fair, the world was screwed far before any of them entered the scene.Schlatt would like to make this fact very clear.---Post-apocalypse, powers, friendship. Go.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: 'they call me' verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832230
Comments: 41
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oof- I found my old ao3 account and I am...not impressed. But here we are again, writing dumb shit I'll probably regret in another two years. 
> 
> I don't have the dynamic between characters down very well, but hopefully they should be relatively close to in character. Some characters listed in tags may not be introduced yet, but they will be, don't worry!
> 
> Alright. Let's do this thing.

To be fair, the world was screwed far before any of them entered the scene.  
  
Schlatt would like to make this fact very clear.  
  
But just to make sure, let’s retell it one more time. 

\--- 

It’s been almost fifty years since the wars that tore modern society apart, but the country is as divided as the day the first bombs landed. Considering the massive scale of the damage, which stretches over the horizon any way you look, Schlatt figures they’re lucky there’s even a square inch of solid ground to build on. It’s no wonder the surviving scraps of humanity are still a little shaky.  
  
The civilization Schlatt is born into is fairly large, a well-functioning amalgamation of three separate tribes formed in the days right after the worst of the airstrikes, before the last of the gas ran out. Of course, only the oldest and luckiest in the clan remember those times; the ones exempt from the jobs of the younger Years, spending their days sitting, unshifting, in clusters under the short honeysuckle trees, only summoned when the clan has need of the Tribunal. Schlatt has a few memories of their oldest Survivor, Pete, telling him about the wars he lived through, about the ease of life before the battles and the terrific violence of the last year of true society.  
  
Schlatt has no way of conceptualizing its scale, but he knows from the way the sadness settles into every line of Pete’s face that he’s lucky, in a way, to be born in this time without war, where the largest conflict he’s experienced was a week’s skirmish between tribes over territory- even though it means he’ll never see the beautiful towering cities Pete describes.  
  
In other areas, Schlatt’s luck is up for debate.  
  
About fifteen years following the end of the war, the population began to mutate.  
  
There’s no scientists left to explain the true cause, or even to describe the effect. Their tribe knows only what occurs within their limits; there’s no way to communicate over large distances, even if they wanted to. What they know is this: in Year 16, three children showed signs of Powers. By the next year, there were eight. The next, fourteen. Eventually, all children (38 in Schlatt’s Year) had abilities beyond those of normal humans. What limited communication they had with other tribes confirmed that the phenomenon was emerging in communities throughout the Land. (Pete says that they were once America, or the USA. Schlatt couldn’t prove it either way).  
  
And this is where his debatable luck comes into play.  
  
Since his birth as AG1326 (Agricultural Sector, Number 13, Year 26), Jonathan Schlatt has had a life laid out for him. Until his thirteenth birthday, he will spend his days in the Developmental Sector, learning the tasks of a functional member of the tribe. After his time in DEV, he will be shuffled into his assigned sector. He will work every day to support the tribe. He will spend his minimal downtime socializing inside his Year and exploring the territory to improve his usefulness.

He doesn’t know his parents, since the tribe functions as a whole without separate familial groupings, and barely knows anyone else outside of his Year. Since they sleep, eat, and work as a unit, there’s no need for him to. He has what he needs, and one thing he doesn’t: a Power that must be contained.  
  
And here is where it really gets tricky.  
  
The tribe was built up outside of any major cities, away from the dangers of crime and radiation that ravaged the Land during the first years after. Due to the low levels of chemical pollutants in the air and water, few of the tribe’s Powered are strong enough to alter their basic lifestyle. Most have simple, harmless illusion and alteration-based abilities, just enough for a light show or a slightly better set of work tools. Some have dormant Powers, which are either too weak or too specific to be discovered. Schlatt’s best friend, Connor, has one of the best powers in their Year: the ability to alter cloth, both finished and unfinished, into any material that he wishes. The Tribunal has been very impressed with his work in the Domestic Sector.  
  
Schlatt is...different.  
  
His power emerged at the end of his seventh year. He doesn’t remember much, but what he does remember is more than enough. Taunting two boys into a fight, dark blood soaking into the packed dirt of the classroom floor, a teacher running in, too late. He remembers the shallow grave out on the far side of town, the small body with cloudy, unfocused eyes.  
  
After that, it wasn’t a problem that they were discouraged from socializing across Years. Schlatt had enough trouble with his own.  
  
At the Beginning of Work ceremony, when his Year officially passed into their adult duties, Schlatt’s Power is recorded as simply “persuasion.” During his presentation of adulthood, Schlatt bites his cheek and stares at the wall, listening to one of the Tribunal members’ remarks about the convenience of his solitary birth assignment.  
  
It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing he can do about it now.  
  
He tastes the iron tang of blood on his tongue and shivers.

\---

On the day that changes Schlatt’s life forever, he’s struggling into the beginning of his two hundred and tenth week of Assignment in the fields.  
  
His plot is looking a little raggedy this year, battered and dried out from stronger-than-average winds and the unexpected death of their rain-caller. This season, he had been assigned to soybeans, a rare stroke of luck for him. They were easy to grow and fast to harvest, meaning he might get reassigned to another sector after his crop was done, maybe even to the domestic center where Connor worked.

The night before had been rough, a long day of work followed by an unexpected request for kitchen help that left Schlatt struggling through hours of solo work that he had never been trained for, filling in for a sick boy in his Year. Even in his extra tasks, the Tribunal avoided pairing him with others. Too ‘dangerous.’

Feeling the effects of little sleep and copious annoyance, Schlatt slowly trails around the perimeter of his plot, checking for animal damage and trying (with only moderate success) to keep his sticky eyelids from closing.

“Yo! J Schlatt!”

He looks up, glancing in the direction of the voice. It belongs to the girl assigned to the adjacent plot, Anna. Schlatt groans internally. Unlike the rest of his Year, Anna seems to have no difficulty in approaching him. This is rather unfortunate. He kind of wishes she did.

He keeps walking.

“Hey, dude-” she breaks off, puffing up to walk beside him. “Did you see the announcement on the board this morning?”

“Yeah, I-”

“Isn’t it crazy? I can’t believe it!”

“I know, the-”

“The first outsiders to visit the tribe in years! I heard they’re practically savages, don’t have Years or Assignments or even territory! It’s a good thing there’s only a few of them, or we might have to take action. I wouldn’t mind putting some of our training to use.”

She sounds way too excited about the possibility. Schlatt dislikes her even more.

“Or maybe they’ll choose to join up- I heard some of them are around our age, you know. We’re coming close to our Renewal year, Jonathan, we have to think about these things.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Anna seems not to hear, swinging her arms wildly by her sides. He takes a careful step to the left to avoid her flailing, but she moves with him as if anchored to his side.

“I bet they’ll be fantastic. More interesting than any of our boys, even if they are savages.”

Schlatt makes a small sound of disgust, and she turns to look at him, curls bouncing over her shoulder as she somehow moves closer.

“Don’t worry, Jonathan, you’re still my favorite by far.”

“I really wish I wasn’t.”

“Aw, you’re so cute.”

He tries to step around her, avoiding eye contact, wary of her hand on his elbow.

“C’mon, don’t you want to talk about the Renewal? There’s not many girls in our Year, you’ll have to pick soon.” She peers up at him, faking concern. “Unless you’re hoping for that, Jonathan?”

Schlatt has had enough.

“I’m not gay, I don’t care, I’m not interested.”

Her expression hardens. “I’m just trying to do you a favor, Schlatt.”

“Well, please stop.”

“You know you’d have trouble finding anyone except for stupid Connor. No one else wants anything to do with you, for good reason.”

“Fuck off.” Schlatt can hear his heart beating in his head. At his side, his fingernails dig into his palms as he struggles to even his breathing. “I don’t care who the fuck I end up with as long as it isn’t you. You’re the worst goddamn person in our Year, you have such little manners it’s hardly a wonder you ended up out here in the outskirts of the tribe, and your attempts at flirting are fucking horrendous. No one would care if you picked a fight with a wolf and got killed. In fact, why don’t you go try it. It’s what you deserve.”

Anna’s hand drops off of his arm. He pushes past her, walking as fast as he can towards the small workers’ shack in the center of the Year 26 plots. In his hurry, he doesn't see the slight glaze over her eyes. When she turns and walks into the woods, he doesn't notice.

In fact, he doesn't see her again for the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything reads weird- pacing, sentence structure, too much unnecessary world-building. I'm trying to give a feel for the setting so I can focus on Lunch Club later, but at the same time hope it's not sounding like a history textbook. You know? Go ahead and insult the trash bits, it's chill.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning at breakfast, a representative from the Tribunal makes an announcement. 

AG0426, Anna Stevenson, is missing. All they know is that she failed to sign out of work the previous night and missed her assigned sleep hours in the Year 26 bunkhouse. If anyone has more information about her location or motive, they should alert the Tribunal or their Year supervisor immediately. 

Shoveling the meager meal into his mouth, Schlatt considers his conversation with Anna the previous day. He didn’t think she was acting weird, and she certainly showed no signs of desertion, the way she went on about the visitors and the upcoming Renewal ceremonies (ugh). But he didn’t see her at the allotted lunch time, when all the workers gathered around the small, crooked table of the shack, stealing each other’s sandwiches and teasing about future Renewal mates. He didn’t see her bent over the fields or watering the tomato plants or skipping over to his plot to hang off of his arm. 

Worry stirs in his stomach, but he ignores it. He has a long day ahead of him, and no promise of a single friendly interaction at any point. Connor’s already been gone for hours, summoned for some urgent new Assignment in the tribe’s northern outpost. Between him traveling and Anna missing, Schlatt has no obligation to linger in the meal area. 

He sets aside all thoughts of the two and picks up his bag, preparing for yet another long, tiring shift. Just a few more days and then his two hundred and tenth week of Assignment will be over.

_And then only five billion more to go,_ Schlatt thinks, slumping out of the building. 

He doesn’t know how untrue that statement will prove to be. 

\---

Arrive. Check the perimeter. Repair any broken machinery. Maintain a distance- from both the workers and the shaded forests surrounding the plots. 

Break for lunch. Sit aside and watch the others joke and laugh. 

Back to work. Water the individual plants along the shack walls. Check the perimeter again. Investigate a noise, then choose to ignore it. Wander around for a few minutes, just to kill the time. Rewalk the perimeter once more. 

At dark, check out and return to the bunkhouse. Wait for Connor to get back- except tonight he’s not coming. He’s still occupied at the outpost. 

It’s the same goddamn day every time, and Schlatt hates it with every fiber of his being. 

He’s so tired of sitting with his head tilted against the stone wall of the bunkhouse, eyes carefully half-closed (just enough to be non-threatening, without sacrificing his view of the room’s inhabitants) that he’s almost grateful when a supervisor approaches to inform him of an extra assignment. Even with the grudging worry about Anna and the slight resentment of Connor’s trip to keep his thoughts occupied, there’s something about the solemn monotony of the day’s end that trips him up and tears away at his mind. Like the way a hoe loosens the baked dirt of his plot, allowing seeds and water and anything else to spill in and grow. 

The supervisor brings him to one of the smaller leadership huts, the one used to plan exploration missions and, if necessary, coordinate attacks. On the way, he explains the job: they’re sending out a search party for AG0426. 

(“Anna,” Schlatt says. The supervisor shrugs, listless.)

When all the workers are gathered, the group sets off. There are only about fifteen of them, barely enough to canvas the small sections of forest that jut into the Year 26 farmlands, but they’re spread across separate years. Schlatt doesn’t recognize many of them. He’s the only one from Year 26, probably the only one who actually _knows_ Anna.

As the party reaches the section of land where the fields merge into trees, one of the older boys falls into step with Schlatt. 

“Jordan,” the boy says, reaching out a hand to shake. “Year 18, GOV.” 

“Schlatt, Year 26, Agriculture.” Schlatt takes his hand, shaking just once, trying hard not to dislike him just for his good fortune in the birth assignments. Jordan’s grip is firm and steady, because of course it is. 

Returning his hand to the small blade strapped to his side, Jordan glances out at the treeline. “Do you think we’ll find her?” 

“I think if she’s alive, and anywhere in the woods, it would be difficult not to find her.” Schlatt says, not bothering to keep his bitterness out of his tone. 

Jordan’s mouth tilts up in a half smile. “Not a big fan?” 

Schlatt makes a non-committal noise, sweeping the solar flashlight over the brush covering the forest floor. The part they’re in is mostly low bushes and grasses, broken up by a few tree trunks and a shallow creek. He squats to watch the current, trickling over rocks and surging around an old, rusted hoe that lies abandoned in the bed of the stream. Schlatt wonders when that hoe was dropped. He didn’t think anyone went into the forest, least of all people from the tribe. 

Seemingly sensing Schlatt’s preference for silence, Jordan carefully maneuvers over a fallen log to search the other side, taking his own flashlight from his pack. The two move in silence for a while, careful to stay in earshot of the main group as they canvass their section. 

Schlatt is examining a ring of bushes surrounding a huge tree when he hears a series of rustles, followed by Jordan gasping. 

“What?” Schlatt says, sweeping his flashlight over to the other’s area. The older boy is staring down into a patch of overgrown grass, mouth pressed into a grim line. “What, did you find something?” 

“Schlatt, go get the supervisor.” 

“What? I-” 

“Go get him. _Now._ ” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument. 

Figuring it’s better to just obey, Schlatt quickly darts over to the supervisor, calling out. He doesn’t specify what they’ve found, because Jordan didn’t give him any information about whatever it is, but the supervisor follows anyway, light held high to illuminate the path back to their section. 

Jordan waves them over. His eyes are flat; if there’s any emotion behind them, he’s struggling to keep it hidden. As the two near the clump of grass, he reaches out and flattens the weeds to show them more clearly. 

It’s a body. 

It’s Anna’s body, more specifically, torn and bloodied and horrifically, inarguably dead. Slashes line her torso, the rough clothing of the farmhands hanging off in strips. Her arms are flung out to her sides and her legs are twisted into the grass, just as soaked. 

Stomach heaving, Schlatt forces himself to look away, though the image burns into his brain, demanding attention. Just yesterday, she was bounding up to talk to him, full of life and energy, annoying and pushy as she was. Just yesterday, she was enthusing about the new visitors, clumsily propositioning him for the Renewal ceremonies. And now she’s laying like an old dog toy in the dark, horrifying woods, just a few minutes’ walk from the plot she’s tended for years. 

He can’t help it. He glances back, gets just a brief flash of her face- pale skin, open mouth, clouded eyes- before he has to look away again. Her expression floats like a ghost in front of him before his brain catches up. Her eyes...oh god. 

Schlatt’s words come back to him. _No one would care if you picked a fight with a wolf and got killed. In fact, why don’t you go try it._

_It’s what you deserve._

He stumbles back, almost falling. The supervisor turns, surprised, then looks closer at the body. His mouth falls open, processing the information, and he grabs Schlatt’s arm. Schlatt lets him, sagging into the man’s grip. Face struggling to remain neutral, Jordan releases the grass and it springs back, almost hiding the body. 

The supervisor is talking, shaking Schlatt’s arm, but he can’t move. Jordan, too, moves to his side, waving a hand in front of Schlatt’s eyes. He listens to the shouts of the supervisor, who’s pointing accusingly at the eyes, then at Schlatt. Jordan shakes his head, almost disbelieving, but seems to accept whatever it is the man is saying. 

Schlatt can’t hear the words, but he knows what they’re talking about. 

Of course they know who he is. Of course they keep tabs on his Power, the one responsible for two of the only twelve deaths that have happened during his life in the tribe.

He’s dangerous, he’s uncontrollable, he’s lethal.

It’s happened again, oh god, it’s happened again. 

Tears blur Schlatt’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Despite the dizziness building in his brain, he remains conscious all the way back to the village.

Only when they close the door to his cell, when he sees Jordan’s disappointed eyes through the rusted bars, only then does he cry. 

It is his two hundred and tenth week of work in his fields. It is also his last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed another character, so I kinda just randomly landed on Jordan. There's no specific reason, and I don't watch his videos, so this might be really bad idk. 
> 
> Let me know if anything's wack in this chapter. I wrote it real fast because I'm tired and I felt like it, so it's quite probable.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Three days pass. Schlatt remains in the cell. 

He spends most of the time staring blankly at a wall, watching a beam of sunlight from the cell’s only window shift across it with the passing of the day. It’s not like there’s much else to do- the tribe rarely has prisoners, and the room Schlatt’s in is just barely suitable for occupation. If he stretches, his fingers can touch both the iron bars and the opposite wall. 

He waits for something to happen, back propped against the marked-up wooden wall. At nights, he listens to the rustling of wind in the trees, to the distant howling in the woods, far from the village. When morning comes, the sounds of passing workers spill into the cell, and he hugs his knees to his chest, carefully not thinking about Anna or Connor or his own plot, surely drying out in the heat. 

Try as he might, he can’t avoid the image of the body. It comes to him all at once, in the hazy heat of afternoon when he finally lays down and tries to sleep. Just flashes- Jordan holding the grass back, the peculiar jut of her limbs, the split second stab of realization as he saw her eyes. 

His breathing speeds, heart pounding, and he gives up on rest. 

When will someone come get him? The waiting is so much worse than any punishment he can imagine. At least then he would know what to expect. 

Schlatt doesn’t know the laws of the tribe, beyond the basic ones taught in DEV. Even with the incident from his childhood, they’ve never really worried him all that much. He hadn’t been punished beyond a few lost meals for the death of the boy, since it was an accident due to a power he couldn’t yet control. And still can’t, even now. 

But this time...it’s his second offense. He’s not a child anymore. There’s no doubt that they’ll be less forgiving. The only question remaining is how much less.

Schlatt swallows thickly and goes back to staring at the wall. 

\---

On the fourth day, Schlatt has a visitor. 

He hears footsteps approaching his cell and readjusts his posture, assuming that it’ll be the supervisor, bringing him to his trial before the Tribunal. There’s not much he can do about his appearance- he knows that his eyes are still red, and there’s undoubtedly a significant amount of dirt smudged on his clothes and skin- but he runs a hand through his hair anyway. If nothing else, he might garner a little sympathy. 

But when the footsteps reach his cell, Schlatt’s not looking at the bored face of a supervising official. Instead, it’s Connor, worn and tired but achingly familiar. Schlatt’s eyes catch on the bright purple of his pants, the trademark hue and texture of Connor’s Power, and his heart twists with relief and sorrow. After multiple days in the bland cell, the sight of anything familiar is a welcome change. 

“What the fuck did you _do_ , Schlatt?” Connor sounds tired, and his words are definitely worried, bordering on exasperated. 

“You don’t- they didn’t tell you?” 

“I got back yesterday night, Sarah told me you’d been arrested. Apparently they announced it at breakfast, but no one actually knows what happened. Just that you and Anna are gone.” 

Schlatt’s stomach sinks. He can’t decide if it’s merciful or cruel, that he has to be the one to tell Connor what he did. 

He shuts his eyes, braces himself. Prepares to lose the only person he has left _to_ lose. “I killed her.” 

There’s a shocked silence. Schlatt opens his eyes again to see Connor visibly gaping, mouth half-open, expression stunned. His horror feels like a knife in the gut, but Schlatt grits his teeth and forces himself to finish. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just...you remember in DEV? She pissed me off and I accidentally...I told her to go pick a fight with a wolf and she did. We found her body in the woods about three days ago.” 

Schlatt sits and waits. Connor’s face is still going through complicated emotions, but he detects worry-guilt-anger and then, in an instant that tears his chest apart, fear. Schlatt winces away, scooting farther back from the bars. 

His only friend is afraid of him. 

“It’s okay,” Schlatt says, trying to sound as unbothered as possible. He conjures up a weary smile, tacking it firmly onto his face. “You can go back to your work, I’ll be fine. You know me.” 

When that apparently fails, he tries again. “The Tribunal will take care of it. I’m sure...” What does he say? _‘I’m sure it’ll be okay? I’m sure her funeral will be lovely? I’m sure they’ll send me away and you won’t have to worry about me ever again?’_ None of those are good options. He falls silent, clenching his fists into the rough cloth of his pants. 

When Connor finally speaks, he’s shouting. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s fucking terrible, it was an accident, I didn’t mean-” 

Connor ignores him. “You’re going to be ‘fine?’ Schlatt, with what you did, the best thing you could hope for right now is _exile._ It’ll be a miracle if you even manage that. Do you know what that _means_?” 

“Of course I do, I’ve seen trials, I-” 

“No, you don’t understand!” His eyes are wide, wild, like he’s seeing something grotesque and horrible. “You’ve never been outside the village, you can’t go out there alone, you won’t last two days!” 

Schlatt can’t help the shocked laugh that escapes. “Connor, I just _killed_ someone, and you’re worried about _me_? At this point, it’ll be a goddamn miracle if I go down without taking another person with me.” 

“Schlatt, come on, you-” 

“If it meant that no one else got hurt, I’d leave right now if I could.” 

Connor stares. Schlatt stares back, trying to communicate how absolutely fine he will be. Sure, he’ll miss Connor, miss the warmth of the bunkhouse in the evening, the silent dewy chill of mornings in his field. But at this point, he really doesn’t care. 

Anna’s face swims back into his mind, and Schlatt squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of her, turning his head away. 

He hears Connor’s footsteps dart away from his cell, and slumps back into the wall. 

\---

The supervisor comes to get him at the end of the day, right as the chattering and laughter of off-duty workers starts to permeate the air. 

Schlatt feels like he’s swimming through honey. Since Connor left, his thoughts have been sluggish, and his body is dull and heavy with exhaustion. The world seems an echo of the one he remembers; the five o’clock lighting turns everything golden and unreal, like gossamer spiderwebs on the breeze, gone in a wave of the hand. As they pass the trees where the elders sit, Schlatt barely raises a hand to acknowledge Pete, whose brows are pinched together with something like regret. Schlatt can’t bother to figure it out. 

In the main building, where all the tribe’s meetings are held, Schlatt is set before the Tribunal. 

There’s only seven of them, the oldest members of the tribe, the ones who survived the wars and chose to take action afterwards. They’re often credited as the very creators of the tribe, though Schlatt knows from Pete that some are nothing but a name and idea. (Pete himself used to be on the Tribunal, but he was removed when Schlatt was seven. He refuses to explain why.)

The trial itself floats in and out of Schlatt’s awareness. There’s a lot of mumbling among the Tribunal, all of whom appear to have lost their ability to speak loudly, or even coherently. The spokesman, listening closely to their discussion, announces something every now and then, sparking a flurry of activity from the clerks as they search their books for some rule or principle from the tribe’s history. 

Eventually, the announcements become less frequent, the rustle of pages quiets, and the mutterings of the Tribunal get more and more insistent. Schlatt tries to track the thread of conversation, but so much of it is lost in shuffles and coughs that eventually he gives up, returning his attention to his shoes. About five minutes later, the spokesman clears his throat, and Schlatt tunes back in, dread coiling in his stomach.

In a dry, uninterested voice, the man confirms what Schlatt has been expecting. Schlatt (“AG1326,” asserts the spokesman) is exiled from the tribe. He will be given one satchel of resources and allowed one more night in the jail cell, then sent through the western entrance. He will never return. Any goodbyes must be said while he gathers his supplies. Following his departure, he is forbidden from contacting any member of the tribe ever again. 

Schlatt nods faintly, acknowledging the words. When he turns to go, his hands shake and his thoughts race. 

But now that his fate is decided- there’s no more uncertainty gnawing at his brain, no dread turning the inside of his stomach to stone. 

Schlatt sets his jaw, determined, and steadies his hands on the hem of his shirt. He fixes his mind firmly on planning: what to pack, where to head first, the easiest ways to find food and shelter. Connor’s warning rings in his head, but Schlatt reminds himself that his friend has spent his life in the comfortable Domestic Sector, altering cloth and sewing, while Schlatt sweated and toiled in the fields. 

Schlatt will be fine. He has to be. 

The waiting is over. Now he just has to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this, I realized how long I'd spent on literally just the exposition, without even any of the other Lunch Club members (oops). Fingers crossed we get there soon, I have no control over how much I write at any given time.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after his trial, Schlatt returns to the bunkhouse to prepare himself for exile. 

Packing everything he owns into one small satchel is easier than Schlatt expected. Besides a few sets of work clothes and the tools he uses for making repairs, there’s nothing he feels he needs, even when he searches the drawers a second and then a third time. In DEV, he had toys and books and a stash of hidden snacks secreted under his cot, but in his adult life...Schlatt values Connor and his fields. He doesn’t have time for much else. 

After a fourth search of his designated sleeping area, Schlatt settles on carrying a change of clothes, a short folding knife, and a few tools from the toolkit, on the off chance that he needs them. At the last moment, he bends to look under the cot, making sure nothing’s fallen. 

Under the top half of the cot, there’s a small book, almost a pamphlet. Schlatt frowns, but reaches down to grab it. He hasn’t borrowed anything from the tribe’s meager library for months. 

As he picks up the book, a scrap of paper flutters to the ground. Schlatt catches it on the way down, turning it over to see what it is, then stares. 

It’s a drawing of him and Connor, done in hasty pencil. The paper is covered in eraser marks, and there’s some sort of smudge covering Connor’s chin, but it’s definitely them. Connor’s caught halfway into a laugh, head tilted slightly back, mouth open as he cackles. Next to him, Schlatt’s smile stretches wide across his face. Looking at it feels like a jolt of electricity. 

Vaguely, Schlatt remembers posing for the drawing. Some kid from a different Year, allowed to visit Bunkhouse 26 after work hours to practice the anatomical diagramming needed for their introduction into the Medical Sector. Connor and Schlatt had tried to stay still for the kid’s sketch, but ended up messing around so much that the drawing was unusable. 

Shaking away his momentary shock, Schlatt carefully folds the sketch and tucks it into his bag, between the protective layers of clothing. He looks around at the room, filled with sleepy workers heading out to breakfast, and feels a pang of longing. 

“Schlatt.” 

He turns to see Connor, whose eyes are shuttered and purposefully vacant. His hand is extended, a length of dark red fabric draped across it. Just looking at it, Schlatt can’t tell what material it is, but it has a depth of color that only comes from alteration Powers like Connor’s. 

His friend holds it out closer. “It’s a tie. Do you remember?” 

He does. In the later years of DEV, Connor and Schlatt had spent a good year and a half pretending to be businessmen, based on ads they found in some old, prewar magazines. It was a stupid game- there were no cities of people to scam, no stable economy to support such extravagence- but they played it anyway. 

The best part of the game was the costumes. Before the obligations of working life, Connor had more energy to waste on whims, which the two exploited to their best ability. Without the technical knowledge to sew them, they hadn’t been able to recreate suits, but after just a few minutes of trying, Connor had produced two ties, made of a silky material that neither could name. It had been a struggle to learn to tie them, but with the help of Pete, they’d managed. 

Schlatt reaches out and takes the fabric, tying it carefully around his neck. The accessory feels strange, a sharp contrast to the rough practicality of the rest of his clothing, but he leaves it there anyway. He offers a smile to Connor, smoothing down the tie with one hand. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

They stand in silence for a moment, then Connor sighs and puts a hand on Schlatt’s shoulder. “Be careful out there.” 

Schlatt nods, a lump rising in his throat. He refuses to cry. “I will be. Try not to miss me too much, alright?” 

Without another word, he picks up his bag and leaves the building. After a stop at the tribe’s storehouse, selecting dried meat and a canteen to carry water, his bag is full. The supervisor outside the door leads him to the edge of the main village, eyeing him carefully as if assessing a threat. 

When they reach the borders of the town and stop. Past the gate, the dirt roads of the village spill directly into an open field, overgrown with grass and weedy yellow flowers. Schlatt scans the landscape, but it appears to go on for a while, bordered on one side by the woods that surrounded the farmlands. 

The supervisor looks bored, tapping his heels idly on the ground to knock the mud from his boots. Turning towards the village, Schlatt ignores him. He traces his eyes over the short buildings, watching the movement of the people in the streets and drinking in his last view of the only place he’d ever known. 

Eventually, the supervisor clears his throat impatiently. Schlatt takes the hint, going through the gate and waving at the guards who stand at both sides. With one more glance at his home, he turns away and walks into the field. 

\---

Schlatt’s first impression of exile is that it’s mind-numbingly boring. 

The spike of adrenaline he’d felt upon leaving the village had faded a good three hours ago, and he was still in the same fucking field he’d started in. Working twelve hours a day on the farm wasn’t exactly the most fun way to spend your time, but at least there were a variety of tasks, ranging from simple patrolling to basic maintenance and repair. Now all he’s doing is walking endlessly and staring at the acres of open fields, occasionally shifting his pack to the other shoulder. 

Finally, when the sun has just begun to cross the middle of the sky, Schlatt finds a town. 

“Town” might be an exaggeration. It’s a scattered collection of buildings unlike anything he’s seen before, all clearly abandoned. While his village was simple but sturdy, a sprawl of short, mostly wooden buildings of various sizes, this new place is squat and foreign. The four concrete buildings line the sides of a long, flat rectangle of pavement, the edges of which are partially broken up into chunks and conquered by stubborn weeds. The road (it must be a road, Schlatt reasons, though it’s far from the packed dirt trails that he knows) continues left through the meadow, disappearing into the gloom of the forest. 

Pausing to evaluate the situation, Schlatt tries to think rationally. He still hasn’t seen any of the dangers Connor seemed so frightened of, but if a threat is anywhere, there’s a distinct possibility it could be hiding in these structures. The buildings don’t look particularly sturdy- there’s far too many cracks and holes in their walls to even consider them vaguely trustworthy- but looks can be deceiving. Someone looking for a night out of the elements might be desperate enough to squat for a while (and attack anyone encroaching on their territory). 

On the other hand, Schlatt knows that the supplies in his pack won’t last forever. Already he’s down half a canteen of water just from walking all day in the sun. The town would offer a chance to gather resources, regroup a little, plan out his next move. And the road would provide an easy way to navigate the landscape, maybe even a path to another settlement…

Schlatt decides to risk it. No risk, no reward, right? Maybe he’ll get lucky. 

(He tries not to think about his track record of being very, very unlucky.)

The shade of the buildings makes it almost immediately worth it. Wiping his face with his shirt, Schlatt winces at the sting of sweat in his eyes. His bangs are nearly flattened with damp moisture, and he can feel the hair clinging to the back of his neck, underlined by the tight heat of skin he just _knows_ will be horrendously sunburned. Even in the fields, they took breaks during the hottest parts of the day to avoid the annoyance of burnt skin and sweat-drenched clothes. 

Slinging his bag back over his shoulder, Schlatt cautiously steps further into the shadow of the first building. He’d entered the town just a little bit down the road (east, by the movement of the sun), and this primary building appears to be some sort of rest stop for vehicles, marked by a small main structure and a sort of elevated awning that shades some of the lot. A lone truck without wheels rests on the left side of the area, paint flaking away in strips. The building itself is similarly run-down; the glass of the doors and windows is blown out onto the pavement, and the metal frame of the left-hand door hangs crooked on its hinges. It’s not very inviting, but Schlatt can see shelves through the missing windows, so he carefully swings open the door and steps through, boots crunching on the glass. 

The first rows of shelves are almost completely cleaned out, the only thing left an empty cereal box advertising an ancient sweepstakes event. Schlatt moves on to the next aisle, glancing at the windowed counter to his left, where an old machine lies in pieces. The cabinets behind the counter contain a few picked-over rows of boxes with packaging that he recognizes from a magazine ad- some sort of drugs in a stick, stupid as it sounds. There probably aren’t any good supplies there either. 

After a few more minutes of exploration, Schlatt is forced to conclude that the store contains absolutely nothing useful. Like the first aisle hinted, all that's left are a few empty containers. Even the pile of smashed electric parts doesn’t appear to have anything close to functional, as far as Schlatt and his limited technological knowledge can tell. 

Swatting a spiderweb out of his face, he leans against the dilapidated counter. There’s not much behind it, just a few more empty shelves and, parallel to the line of the counter, a dark hallway complete with an ‘Employees Only’ sign. A cursory glance into it reveals the store’s last chance of redeeming itself: the break room. 

Bracing a hand on the sturdiest section of the counter, Schlatt hops to the other side, landing with a crunch on what looks to be the remains of a keyboard. He walks slowly into the hallway, wary of the darkness when so much of the store is bathed in daylight. The door of the break room is surprisingly intact and squeaks softly as he pushes it open. 

The room is mostly shadowed, the single ceiling bulb shattered, but Schlatt can barely make out the shape of shelves piled with boxes filling the small space. As his eyes adjust, he steps closer, squinting at the label scrawled across one of the boxes. 

“Beef jerky,” he reads aloud. _At least there was some use to coming here after all,_ he thinks, _even if I already have too much dried meat._ Between this store and the supplies he took from the village, it’s safe to bet that he’ll be real sick of beef in no time at all. But it’s food, however undesirable, and he can’t exactly leave it here not knowing when he’ll be able to find a cache like this again. 

Dropping his pack to the floor, Schlatt unfolds the flaps of the box and peers inside. The small bags of jerky fill the box almost to the top, a whole hoard of shrink-wrapped packaging and angry yellow and red logos. Grabbing a few handfuls, Schlatt opens his bag and drops them in, disregarding the bag’s total lack of organization. 

The crinkle of plastic completely covers up the sound of footsteps in the hallway. 

Schlatt is returning the box to the shelf when the creak of the door alerts him to the fact that he’s not alone. Freezing, he considers his options, then remembers that he only _has_ one option, given that the mysterious person is blocking the only exit. He has to get past them and through the door if he wants to escape. He doesn’t know what the other person’s intentions are, or what weapons they might possess. Given this lack of information, his best bet is probably to talk to them, try to strike a deal, then attack if necessary. 

Resolved, Schlatt opens his mouth and turns, preparing to speak. But before he can get even a word out, there’s a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, a silhouette lunging toward him. His hands instinctively come up to shield his face, but the attacker simply grabs them instead, skin cool against his own. A wave of something electric and painful rushes through the contact. 

Schlatt’s eyes roll back into his head as he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter probably isn't the same quality as the other chapters, but I wanted to post it even if it's not perfect as an apology for the unintentional break. Sorry about the wait, my brain is fried from the start of fall sport preseason and I am e x h a u s t e d.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and feel free to comment any mistakes that may have shown up in this chapter! I really love reading your feedback <3


	5. Chapter 5

When he comes to again, it’s to the tap of a finger against his cheek, accompanied by the sting of the Power he’d felt before. His mouth tastes like metal and burnt toast. 

“Wakey, wakey!” An unknown voice sings. 

Schlatt opens his eyes, scrunching his face up as the light blinds him. The urge to shade his face alerts him to the fact that his hands are tied behind his back and he startles upwards, paying more attention to his surroundings. 

There’s a girl directly in front of him, bouncing up and down on her toes. She’s dressed revealingly, like no one he’s ever encountered, wearing only a cropped shirt and shorts made of a strangely reflective material. Her skin is tanned dark and her tightly coiled hair springs out from her head to form a cloud. The only thing Schlatt finds familiar about her is her boots: the same durable utilitarian shoes worn by anyone planning on spending more than a few hours out in the wilderness. 

He glances away from the girl, taking in their location. They’re not in the same building he explored, but they’re probably still in the town, judging from the concrete walls and flooring. The room is simple, containing more of the basic metal shelving he’d seen in the break room, as well a few small tables surrounded by rusted chairs. Like the other building, there’s a counter running along one wall, though this one is shorter. There appears to be a kitchen on the other side. 

As Schlatt’s eyes sweep the space, they catch on another detail: a boy, sitting directly next to him. Like Schlatt, his wrists and ankles are looped with rope. Unlike Schlatt, he seems to still be asleep, slumped against the wall with his head resting precariously on a nearby chair. It doesn’t look comfortable, but he’s willing to bet that dealing with whatever shit’s about to happen will be even less so. At this point, Schlatt can’t tell if he envies the boy or not. 

“Hell-ohh?” The girl gets his attention with another shock to the face and he decides that yes, he does envy the boy. He glares at her, trying to put the full heat of his anger behind it.

“Oh good!” She says brightly, straightening back up. “You’re awake!”

“Unfortunately.” Schlatt mumbles, shifting his arms behind his back. The rope scrapes unpleasantly against the skin of his wrists. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Ahh, no-no, we don’t say that here!” The girl swings herself up onto a table, kicking her feet. “You should really watch your language or I might get offended.” 

“Okay, try this: fuck you, bitch. Let me go.”

The girl makes an exaggerated frowny face, resting her chin on her elbow. “That wasn’t very nice of you.” 

“You know what else isn’t very fucking nice? Knocking people out and tying them up!” 

Seemingly unaffected, the girl clicks her tongue and hops back off the table, making her way to stand before the other boy. “Maybe this one will be more polite.” 

Schlatt watches her tap the boy on the forehead, brushing his bangs back to reach the skin. A small spark jumps from her fingertips and the boy gasps, startling awake. 

“Good morning!” The girl says, smiling. “Afternoon, really, but who cares?” 

“What...how did you…” 

“Take you?” The girl fills in, eyes glinting. Her tone is pleasant and playful, as if she’s addressing a particularly amusing child. “It was pretty easy, to be honest. You really shouldn’t go that far away from your group, they didn’t even notice when I dragged you back here.” 

“Where are we?” The boy says, brows furrowed as he glances around. His gaze seems to settle on one of the windows, where a large black bird perches unsteadily on the sill. Something about the sight seems to calm him, and his expression flattens out again. 

“Oh, straight to business, jeez. You two are so serious. Don’t even worry about it, baby.” 

Schlatt and the boy make identical sounds of disgust. The girl just grins wider, swinging back up to start pacing. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Neither of you will be here long.” 

As if that isn’t terrifying ominous. “Why?” Schlatt says warily, eyeing the distance between himself and the door. 

“Well, when the rest of the guys get back, we’ll have enough people to risk a journey. You know how it is, out there all alone in the big scary wilderness,” she says, twirling around once more to face Schlatt. “Wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.” Her hand comes to rest at her belt, and he sees a knife strapped there, hidden by a black sheath but clearly longer and thicker than his own. 

Not that his tiny pocket knife would be of much use anyway. It’s in his bag, which is nowhere to be seen. 

After a short silence, the boy next to Schlatt speaks up again. “Where are you journeying to?” 

The girl’s smile hasn’t dropped. Her fingers dance along the knife’s handle as she replies. “Let’s just say there’s a few people out there who’d just _love_ an interview with some...compliant...Powered.” 

Schlatt doesn’t even want to unpack the possibilities that statement could hold. He shifts his wrists, trying to separate them, but the rope is tight and he can’t move them more than a centimeter apart. His ankles are the same. They’re even tied to the rope around his wrists, so there’s no way to get his feet under him and run. 

No weapon, no escape, no way to fight- and the girl doesn’t seem remotely open to accepting deals, the way her hand keeps straying to her blade. His fellow prisoner isn’t even trying to escape, instead looking strangely apathetic to the situation. Without knowing his Power, Schlatt can’t rely on the other to suddenly save them, even if the boy wanted to...and that leaves one option. 

Schlatt winces, already dreading it, but he has to try. 

When he speaks again, his voice is deliberately soft. He’s never had much of a handle on tone, but if he’s going to use the one thing he desperately doesn’t want to, he has to be careful. There’s no need to remind himself of what might go wrong. 

“Hey. Girl. Come over here.” 

Schlatt sees the effect almost immediately. The girl’s steps falter and she drifts closer, seemingly unaware of the movement. Her eyes are glazed over like she’s sleeping. The sight turns his stomach upside down. 

“Come on. Closer.” He beckons as much as he can with his head. 

The other boy interrupts. “What’re you-” 

“Quiet.” 

The boy shuts up. 

Back to the girl. She’s only a few feet away, still stepping slowly forward, head tilted almost dreamily. Schlatt wiggles away from the wall, shifting until his back is towards her, bound wrists and ankles presented. He takes a breath, wincing as he considers what might happen if he messes up the next part.

“Take out your knife.” 

The blade makes a soft sound as it leaves the scabbard. Schlatt watches over his shoulder. 

“Cut me loose. Be careful not to nick me at all.” 

Gradually, the pressure on his wrists lessens as the ropes are removed. He brings his arms around to his front, rubbing the reddened skin on his wrists. After another moment, his ankles are released too, and he stands shakily. 

Command fulfilled, the girl waits patiently. The knife dangles loosely from her fingers. 

“Give me the knife, handle first.” 

She complies. 

Schlatt pauses for a second, then decides. “Knock yourself out.” 

Sparks fly from her fingertips, skipping up her body to her head. When they reach her temples, her eyes close and she collapses forward into Schlatt. Slowly, he lowers her to the ground. 

The boy makes a noise. It’s barely a grunt, just noticeable in the new silence. Schlatt looks at him, a little surprised at his ability to produce anything under the command. 

If anything, the boy does not appear amused at the little show. He’s glaring, not quite in an aggressive way, more in a ‘what the fuck, dude, let me go’ way. 

“Sorry,” Schlatt tells him. “I don’t know you, I can’t really trust that you won’t try to do the same shit she did.” He gestures toward the girl with the knife. 

The boy makes another noise, more insistently. 

“Sorry, dude.” Schlatt looks down, trying to figure out a way to tuck the knife into his belt. He doesn’t really want to steal the girl’s sheath; the amount of awkward maneuvering required to undo her belt and pull it off would be uncomfortable to say the least. 

At another noise, he glances up. This time, the boy isn’t looking at him, he’s staring over Schlatt’s shoulder. 

Schlatt has just enough time to think, _Oh god, not this shit again,_ before something heavy thuds into his temple and he passes out for the second time in less than a day. 

\---

Through the fog in his brain, Schlatt hears a conversation. 

“What the fuck, Ted, why’d you knock him out?” 

“I don’t know, man, he was standing over you with a knife, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Literally anything logical? Maybe next time just ask ‘hey, what’s going on?’ before you come in swinging that thing like an idiot.”

“I’ll forgive you for calling Big Lion ‘that thing’ if you will admit that the situation looked very worrying and I was entirely justified in my actions.” 

“Alright, dude, Jesus, stop brandishing it like you’re gonna hit me next.” 

“Big Lion chooses his own victims. I am merely his wielder.” 

“You’re so fucking weird, dude.” 

Schlatt decides that this entire conversation is a sign of serious brain damage and/or an unusually complex auditory hallucination. Thankfully, just as he’s thinking it, a strangely deep wave of exhaustion washes over him and he sinks blissfully into unconsciousness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cooper voice* Good morning!
> 
> Yes, Ted's bat is named Big Lion. I've planned most of this story out and I regret to inform everyone that it only gets stupider from here. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with these wildly inconsistent updates...a week and a half of nothing followed by two days straight. As always, feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

When Schlatt awakens again, he’s ready to kick someone’s teeth in. Getting knocked out isn’t exactly a habit he wants to fall into. He vows to promptly return the favor to the next person who tries it.

On the upside, this time he doesn’t appear to be bound. He shifts his limbs around a bit, just to make sure, before opening his eyes. 

The first thing he notices is that he’s definitely not in the town anymore. Instead, Schlatt is looking around at canvas walls, like those of the temporary shelters used by the caravans that occasionally traveled through his village. This one appears to be a simple canopy, with extra sheets of cloth stretched between the poles to form a small room. Plastic tarps cover the floor, crinkling as Schlatt adjusts himself on the blanket he’s lying on. He’s situated at the back, facing the one unsecured flap of the tent, though the free-hanging fabric still obscures the view of outside. The rest of the tent is sparsely decorated: there’s a small folding table; a tall stack of plastic containers piled next to it; and a corner filled with a mismatched assortment of chairs, including everything from beanbags to a worn wooden rocking chair. 

Schlatt glances around, cautiously taking in the new environment. The throbbing of his head makes it hard to think, but he tries to sort through his confusing thoughts and plan. Is he in another hostile situation? What happened to the boy he was captured with? If the conversation he overheard actually happened, then the boy’s friends probably came to get him. But why take Schlatt too?

Mind racing, he shifts again on the blanket. He can hear movement outside, the shuffling swishes and thuds of moving objects mixed with the murmur of indistinct voices. A short burst of laughter breaks out, then disappears again into the general commotion. 

As Schlatt listens, he picks out a thread of conversation, gradually getting louder as the participants approach the tent. 

“-couldn’t leave him, the girl said there would be others coming. You know they’re getting more aggressive.”

“No, I get that, what’s annoying is the fact that Ted clocked him for no reason and now I have to deal with it.”

“Shut up, he’s already on watch for the night, is that not enough punishment?”

“Fair. About the girl, though- did she have a Device?” 

“No, that’s why I thought it was weird. If she’d had one, I would have brought it back for you to mess with.” 

“But you’re sure she meant-” 

“She said that certain people were ‘very interested’ in meeting Powered, who else could she be talking about?” 

“Yeah.”

The footsteps pause outside. Schlatt can see two shadows through the cloth, one with an arm outstretched to pull back the corner of the flap.

Cursing silently, Schlatt sits up. His head instantly pounds, sending a shiver of nausea through him, but he’s determined to show at least a little strength when the people enter. Rubbing his temples, he tries to stand, steadying himself against the table next to him. His vision almost blacks out at the movement and he stops, breathing deeply. Stomach churning unsettlingly, he leans more heavily into the table.

“Are you sure you should be standing?” An unknown voice asks. 

Schlatt turns his head to see a boy silhouetted against the doorway. Behind him, the flap moves again, and the boy from the town steps into view. Seeing Schlatt, he winces a bit and raises a hand to wave, almost guiltily. 

The new boy walks further into the tent, seemingly unaware of the way Schlatt shuffles backwards from his advance. He heads for the stack of tubs, opening the first one and reaching inside. 

“I’m Charlie,” the boy says over his shoulder, still digging through the box. 

Schlatt doesn’t reply, eyesight bouncing between Charlie and the boy at the door, still wary of their presence. Even though neither appear particularly inclined to violence at the moment, the throbbing of his head reminds him that the situation could change rapidly. 

As he thinks it, a stronger stab of pain presses into the space right behind his eyes. Schlatt flinches and rubs again at his temples. 

“Sorry about your head.” The boy at the door says, finally moving into the room. He collapses into the rocking chair, momentum sending it rocking before he stills it with both feet on the floor. “Ted can be a little overzealous when it comes to Big Lion.” 

Ah. So that conversation did happen. He feels a strange sense of relief that his brain wasn’t fucked up enough to produce whatever the hell ‘Big Lion’ was. 

“I’m Cooper, by the way,” the boy- Cooper- adds. 

Figuring the odds of them suddenly attacking are pretty low now that they’ve had ample opportunities to do so, Schlatt waves a hand at both of them, still bracing himself on the table. “Call me Schlatt.” 

Charlie emerges from the bin, pushing up his glasses with one hand. The other clutches a large plastic cup, a sanitizing wipe, and a bottle of water. Schlatt tenses as he walks to the table, depositing the items onto its surface. 

“So,” Charlie starts. “What hurts?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I assume your head, but if there’s anything else I can probably fix it too.” 

“What, are you like a medic or something?” 

“Yeah, something like that. So- what hurts?”

_Something like that?_ Schlatt doesn’t really know what to think about the vague way Charlie deflected the question. Still, neither he nor Cooper have initiated any sort of confrontation- Cooper even apologized for whoever ‘Ted’ was- and unlike the first time he woke up to strangers, Schlatt hasn’t been restrained. Based on that, he figures that he’s pretty safe for now, even if he doesn’t exactly trust them. 

“Pretty much just my head,” he finally answers.

Charlie nods, opening the water bottle and pouring about half of it into the cup. Watching him, Schlatt notices that he’s wearing clear gloves, probably latex, and that the skin underneath is vaguely green. The gloves snap as Charlie removes them, and small drops of green liquid fall onto the table before he cleans them up with the sanitary wipe. Schlatt wrinkles his nose, a little confused about how a medic could work with such a hindrance of a Power. 

It’s not made any clearer by what follows. Charlie wipes the rest of the substance off his uncovered hand, then positions it above the glass. After a few seconds, a new fluid forms, this time red in color. It drips off into the water, spreading quickly and tinting the water pink. 

After a few awkward moments of silence, Charlie removes his hand from over the cup, wiping the remaining liquid off his fingers. The solution is far less transparent than it began, now a dark red almost as vibrant as Schlatt’s tie. 

Charlie pushes the glass over to Schlatt, tugging the glove back onto his hand, which has returned to seeping green. “Drink.”

“What?” Schlatt glances to Cooper in the corner, who just nods at him.

“Drink it, dude, it’ll help your head feel better.” 

“I’m not drinking his fucking hand drugs!” 

A smile creeps onto Charlie’s face, even as he pushes the cup closer to Schlatt. “Come on, buddy, I’m just trying to give you a _hand_.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Cooper groans, sending Charlie a look halfway between amusement and annoyance. “Seriously?” 

Charlie grins wider. “Schlatt, please drink it, I’m a- _skin_ nicely.”

That’s it. Schlatt grabs the cup, chugging the entire thing. Thankfully, it doesn’t taste of chemicals or sweaty hands like he was afraid it would, just like slightly metallic water. 

“There, are you going to stop now?” He says, wiping his mouth with the bottom of his shirt. Strangely enough, his head does feel a little better, the persistent pounding weakening as Charlie’s weird hand concoction does its work. Gingerly, he straightens, taking his weight off of the table. 

Charlie laughs, taking the cup back. “Yeah, I’ll stop. Wouldn’t want to get too a _head_ of myself anyway.”

Schlatt narrows his eyes. “Was that another fucking pun?” 

Gesturing to the entrance of the tent, Cooper interrupts them. ( _Hallelujah,_ Schlatt thinks.) “Carson’s coming.” He stands and heads over to the tubs, pulling out a bag of chips.

Just as he finishes his sentence, the flap lifts and another boy pokes his head through. He looks kind of similar to Charlie, with glasses and a flop of brownish blond hair. Vaguely, Schlatt wonders how many people are in this group. He’s only been awake for a few minutes, but already he knows of at least four- Cooper, Charlie, Ted, and now this boy.

The boy, apparently Carson, glances at Charlie briefly, opening his mouth as if to speak, before he notices Schlatt. “Hey, you. You’re finally awake!” 

Unsure as to what to say, Schlatt nods slowly. “...Yes?”

“Cool. Anyway, Charlie, Ted sent me to get you. He says he needs help with the crossbow?” 

Charlie swears softly, throwing the cup back into the tub it came from. “Come on, I told him not to mess with that!” 

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think he may have messed with it.” 

The two leave through the flap, the sound of their banter fading away. Schlatt looks back at Cooper, who’s still steadily crunching his way through the bag of chips. 

“Okay, so...now that I’ve ingested an unknown and potentially dangerous substance, can I go?” From what Schlatt knows, people don’t typically extend kindness and sanctuary to strangers- even ones they mistakenly knocked out- without some expectation of payment. Schlatt isn’t sure if he expects them to kick him out for intruding or force him to stay and work to repay the debt. 

Nonchalantly, Cooper shrugs. “I mean, I’d check with Charlie that you’re good to go, but honestly you should be fine. I can take you to get your stuff if you want. I think Noah has it.” 

“Yeah, could you?” Schlatt says, taking in the name of yet another member of this strange tribe. He’s suddenly glad he hadn’t tried to fight his way out- taking on five Powered without so much as a knife would have been close to impossible, no matter how strong their Powers were. He hasn’t tested his own Power enough to know its limits, but he knows they aren’t infinite, based on the amount of control it took just to persuade the girl from before.

Wiping his hands on his pants, Cooper tosses the empty chip bag onto the table next to Charlie’s used wipes, then starts towards the front of the tent. Schlatt follows him out, blinking into the bright sunlight, and finds himself in the middle of an organized camp. Perpendicular to the one they just left, there’s a second, longer tent, one actually designed for true camping instead of just a canopy. Despite the heat, the center of the clearing holds a small fire with a closed pot suspended on a spit over the flames. On the other side of the camp, about a hundred feet from where Schlatt and Cooper are, Carson and Charlie stand next to a sitting man with dark hair, who’s holding a crossbow across his lap and gesturing wildly. A pile of bolts rests beside him, dangerously close to rolling into the fire. 

“Noah’s probably in there,” Cooper says, gesturing to the other tent. As they approach the door, it unzips and a boy steps out. He looks younger than the others, shorter and less guarded than even Charlie had been. 

Sounding surprised, Cooper stops walking and says, “Hey, Travis.” 

Travis glances up from the ground, making eye contact with Schlatt. Schlatt’s preparing himself for another greeting, already lifting his hand, when the boy starts to shudder. 

“Oh, no,” Cooper says, almost frantic. “Cover your ears.” 

“What?” 

“Cover your ears!” 

Confused, Schlatt switches his gaze between the two. As he watches, Travis’s eyes screw closed, then open wider, suddenly bloodshot. His face pales, mouth opening as he audibly inhales, then screams. 

The sound is almost deafening, echoing in the forest and rebounding, seemingly doubling and tripling in volume as it continues. Schlatt winces, covering his ears, but the shrieking stubbornly breaks through the barrier. In the forest, a group of birds rises from the trees, their cawing inaudible over the unending scream. Travis barely looks human anymore, eyes streaked with red, mouth gaping unnaturally wide as he wails. It seems to go on forever, sometimes splintering apart briefly before strengthening again, as if several people are sharing the duty to ensure that none of them tire. 

Eventually, though, the sound trickles off, leaving the camp in a half-silence broken only by Travis’s gasping breaths. He sinks to the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs and hiding his face in his knees, while the three boys on the other side of the campfire make their way over. Another head pops out of the tent opening behind Travis, hair ruffled from sleep, eyes wide and startled. _Noah,_ Schlatt thinks faintly. 

Cooper breaks the silence, staring at Travis. “Oh, shit.” 

“What the fuck just happened?” Schlatt asks, hands still clapped to his ears. 

On his other side, Carson sighs. Schlatt turns his head to look at him. The expression on his face is halfway between resignation and sadness as he squats next to Travis, resting a hand on his shoulder and whispering something into his ear. 

When no one appears inclined to speak, Schlatt tries again. “No, really, can I get an answer here?” 

Cooper scuffs the ground with his shoe, not looking at Schlatt. His voice is weak and quiet when he speaks. “Do you know what a banshee is?” 

“The fact that you’re asking now makes me think that _he_ is, but otherwise no.” 

“There used to be a myth, sort of. Kind of fell out of common knowledge after the wars, but...banshees were these creatures whose screams were supposed to predict death.” 

Swallowing nervously, Schlatt glances back at Travis, who’s just barely emerged from hiding, leaning heavily against Carson’s shoulder. “So…?” 

“Travis is kinda similar.” 

“...How similar?”

“If he screams, the person he’s screaming at usually dies within a week.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I cannot do Charlie puns. My deepest apologies to everyone for having to read through them. 
> 
> How do you guys feel about everyone’s Powers so far? I tried to match them up as close as I could without being too obvious (Schlatt = businessman, Charlie = slimecicle, Travis = making weird noises often), but I changed some of them for plot (ex. Cooper doesn’t have a water power, oof) and others I just straight up cannot decide. If anyone has any ideas for Carson please share them, I am very stupid.


	7. Chapter 7

Silence reigns over the camp. Stunned, Schlatt continues staring at Travis and Carson, still huddled on the ground. He doesn’t want to believe Cooper’s words, obviously, but the somber expressions of everyone around him leaves little doubt that they’ve seen this scene play out before. 

Eventually, Ted sighs, breaking the silence with a loud clap of his hands. “Well, time to move.” 

“Yeah, the Stal’ll be here before long. We might as well start packing now.” The newest boy, Noah, steps fully out of the tent, moving around the two on the ground. 

“I hate to sound stupid, but who’re the Stal?” Schlatt asks, tone exasperated. He’s so goddamn _tired_ of new information, new challenges, new dangers. 

Cooper laughs, short and humorless. “Wow, you must not have been out here long.” 

Before Schlatt can reply, Carson raises a hand, and a strange sort of calm washes over Schlatt’s body. Somehow, it doesn’t feel unnatural, despite the tension of the moment before. Looking at the others, Schlatt can see a similar feeling mirrored on their faces, nearly peaceful. On the ground, Travis lifts his head off of Carson’s shoulder, arms relaxing from their tight hold on his knees. 

“Okay, everyone, we need to move. Noah, can you open the Hugbox in the sleeping tent before we pack it up? Then Ted can break down the campsite while Cooper and I help Charlie with his tent.” Carson pauses, glancing at Schlatt. “Could you go with Noah for a bit? He can explain some of this to you.” 

“Hell yeah,” Schlatt says, definitely a little bitterly. “Finally, answers.” 

If the aggression comes across in his tone, Carson ignores it. “Great!” 

As if on a signal, everyone starts moving. Schlatt is left standing very awkwardly next to Noah, who’s hair is still mussed from sleeping. 

“I was supposed to come see you to get my stuff and leave,” Schlatt says, struggling to project ‘annoyed’ rather than ‘scared shitless.’ “Why am I now suddenly part of the group?” 

“I’m pretty sure Carson wouldn’t let you leave now. Too dangerous, with the scream and everything.” Noah glances over at Travis, who’s moved from his spot on the ground to a patch of grass closer to the med tent, watching Charlie and Cooper carry boxes out of the flap.

“I was doing fine on my own,” Schlatt insists stubbornly. 

Noah snorts. “You must have been out here for what, like two or three days at the most? There’s no way you made it more than a week without knowing who the Stal are. Plus, you were literally being kidnapped when Ted and Cooper found you.” 

“You say that like Cooper wasn’t also being kidnapped.” 

“Yeah, but Cooper had people coming to get him.” 

Actively making an effort to not argue further and end up pissing Noah off, Schlatt changes the subject. “So who are the Stal, then?” 

Noah makes a face, humming thoughtfully. “It’s kind of hard to explain, no one really knows a lot. Mostly we just know that they’re this army that works for some crazy dude they call the Conductor.”

“And they’re called Stal because...?” 

“They’ve all got this Device, attached to the back of their necks, printed with STAL in all caps.” Noah gestures to his neck, indicating the dip right at the base of his skull. “Ted and Charlie say the Devices control them somehow, but I don’t really know much about technology, you’d have to ask them.” 

“So are they like...creatures? Or robots?” Schlatt says, confused. 

“Actually...” Noah winces slightly, as if he’s about to deliver bad news. “We think they’re Powered.” 

“What?” 

“A while ago, people just started disappearing from settlements and camps and stuff, and then a few months later, the Stal appeared. Some villages were completely destroyed, others rallied and fought them off, but the attacks never ended. Now they’re just kinda...around. Most of the time they don’t do targeted attacks, but everyone who lives out here has to deal with them eventually.” 

Trying to absorb the information, Schlatt stares blankly at Ted, who’s settling various weaponry into yet another plastic tub. The idea of Powered being controlled sounds uncomfortably similar to his own abilities, and an image springs unwanted into his mind: a vision of himself as this unknown villain, the Conductor, terrorizing villages and enslaving innocent people to serve his own purposes. A shiver runs down Schlatt’s spine, and he desperately picks on the closest unrelated topic, one that (hopefully) won’t end in yet another terrifying realignment of his world view. “What’s the Hugbox?” 

If Noah’s surprised at the sudden change of subject, he doesn’t show it. “Oh, it’s my Power. If I have a big enough container, I can open up a portal to this interdimensional space and store things in it. We use it when we need to move camp.” 

“An interdimensional portal sounds a little too badass to be called the Hugbox.” 

Noah laughs, glancing over at Ted, who’s moved on to extinguishing the fire. “Before I had a really good handle on it, only I could move in between consistently. Ted tried it once and got stuck coming out so only his arms were in the real world and the rest of his body was still trapped in the portal. Carson almost peed himself laughing. After that, we just started calling it the Hugbox. Easier than saying ‘interdimensional void’ every time.” 

At that moment, Charlie comes puffing up, balancing two tubs of supplies. Behind him, Travis’s curls just barely peek out from behind the bulky sheets of canvas that he’s carrying. Noticing their approach, Noah reaches into the empty space of the tent’s opening and makes a movement like grasping a door handle. When he pulls his hand back, the air ripples and a dull black doorway appears. It doesn’t look like an interdimensional portal, more like a stretched sheet of dark fabric, but Charlie steps through as simple as anything. Travis follows, avoiding Schlatt’s gaze as he passes. 

The next few minutes go fast. Schlatt carries boxes, helps Carson collapse the med tent, and almost pukes at the vertigo of entering the Hugbox. The phrase ‘interdimensional void’ is almost too scientific and clinical to describe the unnatural, almost insidious atmosphere: it’s a pitch-black hallway that seems to go on forever, without any distinguishable features or light sources. Schlatt only knows where the walls are because of the boxes stacked against them. He’s glad to escape, squatting down to center himself, breathing in the sight and sound of nature and ignoring the amused grin Noah directs at him. 

Of course, just as he’s recovering from the symptoms of interdimensional travel, the Stal finally arrive. 

His first warning is a shout from Cooper, who’s bringing in the last of the boxes from the med tent. At the sound, Schlatt whips his head to face him, catching sight of Cooper dropping the boxes to pull a short knife from his belt. Just a few feet away from him are the Stal. 

There’s three in total, two boys and a girl, all wearing torn, oversized clothing and blank white masks covering their faces. Completely smooth except for two dark screens covering the eye holes, the masks are sleek and shiny, precisely molded to fit each individual. Schlatt’s heart skips a beat as the one in the center turns to snarl at his companions, revealing the boxy gray Device fixed to the back of his neck, right where Noah described it. 

“Noah, we still got any weapons out here?” Cooper calls over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the advancing threat. 

Noah scrambles, digging hastily through the closest tub. “Give me a minute!” 

Coming out of the Hugbox, Ted curses at the sight of the Stal. He darts back inside, emerging once more with a dented metal bat, partially covered in splotches of yellow and orange paint. As he runs towards Cooper, two black-feathered birds dive out of the forest, claws outstretched. The birds land, shrieking, on the head of the centermost Stal and Ted slides into a defensive position at Cooper’s side, raising his bat threateningly. 

Snarling, the lead Stal bats at the birds, fists bursting into flame. As the birds flap desperately away, the other Stal reveal their Powers: the left one slowly dissolves into a pillar of gray smoke, barely keeping a human form, and the right one suddenly grows taller and wider, enlarging until she stands a good two feet above the others. Her clothes, once almost comically loose, now stretch tightly across her broadened shoulders and bulging muscles. 

Cursing, Noah rummages faster. “Schlatt, give me a hand here?” 

Schlatt kneels, staring desperately at the assorted pile of weaponry. “What am I looking for?” 

“Hopefully a handgun, it’s got a bit of paint on it-” 

Schlatt spots a barrel poking out from the bottom of the box and grabs it, noticing a streak of teal that stretches from the tip of the barrel down to the grip. “Like this?” He says, offering it to Noah. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Noah says, snatching it from his hands. “Hey, Coop!” 

Cooper, who’s currently dodging spouts of flame while still trying to advance on the Stal’s position, doesn’t turn to look. “Yeah?” 

“Knockout gun, on your left!” Noah yells, chucking it. With barely a glance at the flying weapon, Cooper slides under another rush of flame and grabs the gun out of the air, immediately turning to fire at his Stal’s ankles. Beside him, Ted takes another swing at the muscled Stal’s stomach, earning himself barely a stumble before he’s forced to dodge out of the range of her fists. 

“Here, Noah,” Charlie says, leaning out of the Hugbox to pass him a coiled length of rope. “Time to _whip_ them into shape!” 

“I’ll kick your ass too if you make another stupid pun,” Noah says, though he smiles as he quickly takes the whip and dashes over to join Cooper and Ted. 

Thankfully, the Stal with the fire Power has apparently been knocked out, body laying sprawled across the ground. Ted, still trying to take out the strongman, nearly trips over one of the arms, allowing his opponent to catch him off guard with a strong punch to the face. Stumbling backwards, Ted hits the torso of the downed enemy and falls to the ground. Just as the muscular Stal draws back a foot to kick him, Noah comes in from the side, catching the Stal in the forehead with a stinging blow from his whip. 

“Thanks!” Ted shouts, hurriedly pushing himself upward. Noah nods back, and the two focus again on the fight, teaming up on the larger opponent. 

Meanwhile, Cooper’s preoccupied with the smoke-Powered being. Despite his long-ranged weapon, he seems to be engaged in close combat with the wispy boy, uselessly attempting to hit the few solid parts of the boy’s body with the stun gun. Every couple seconds, the Stal flickers back into a physical being to land a blow, before dissolving again into smoke. 

Watching the fight, Schlatt notices the ineffectiveness of the match-ups. With his gun, Cooper could probably stun the muscular Stal quickly, provided he could get close enough to deliver an effective shot. That would allow all three of them to finish off the smoke Powered, who’d probably slip up somehow and get knocked down. 

He’s just opening his mouth to shout out when something shoves him from behind, sending him tumbling painfully onto the ground. Rolling over, he sees a fourth Stal - how had they missed her? - leering down at him, bronze sunlight glinting eerily off her mask. She raises a hand, materializing a long, spectral sword from thin air, and prepares to swing. 

Schlatt scoots backward frantically, trying to avoid her, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s trapped between the tent and the weapons box, with no time to grab something to defend himself. His concentration is shot, there’s no way he’d be able to persuade her - if you even _could_ persuade the Stal. 

The Stal lifts her weapon, translucent in the rapidly fading sunlight. Schlatt shuts his eyes, bracing himself, but no blow comes. Instead, there’s a splashing sound, followed by a muffled cry. He opens his eyes again to see Charlie leaning halfway out of the Hugbox, one of his gloves laying crumpled on the ground. His hand drips with dark blue slime. 

Another cry brings Schlatt’s attention to the Stal, who’s covering her face with her hands, sword forgotten. When she shifts her grip, he can see a gaping hole in the mask, outlined by Charlie’s slime, which appears to be eating away the plastic of the face plate. Sludge smears onto the Stal’s hands as she wipes desperately at her eyes, nearly obscuring the reddened, angry patches of irritation crawling across her skin. Schlatt flinces, not at the horrifying image in front of him, but at Charlie’s face, so hard and angry where only a moment ago there was amusement.

A bolt of blue light streaks over Schlatt’s head, hitting the Stal directly in the chest, and she collapses backwards at Schlatt’s feet. Lifting himself up on his elbows, Schlatt glances behind him to see Cooper lowering his gun. A few feet behind, Noah and Ted are standing over the bodies of the other three Stal, all now back to their unaltered human forms. 

Travis pokes his head out of the Hugbox, breaking the silence. “Is it over?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the abrupt ending, i lowkey suck at ending chapters :/ in other news, big thanks to leafvs for their suggestion as to Carson’s Power- you’ll definitely see it more in the future, but there was a little sneak peek here! 
> 
> also, shameless self-promo: now that the Stal have been introduced (finally), there’ll be some oneshots and short fics coming up from this related universe (featuring Lunch Club, the Conductor, + maybe other youtubers) so if you want to check them out they should be added to a series with this work! first up is Noah’s origins in this universe. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
